


Resolution

by GallicGalaxy



Category: Dangan Ronpa
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Despair, Established Relationship, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 08:25:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2805998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GallicGalaxy/pseuds/GallicGalaxy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mondo attempts to make amends after his and Ishimaru's first major fight out on their own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Resolution

**Author's Note:**

> Woah, I wrote a mostly G-rated fanfiction. What's wrong with me?  
> Anyway, this is just a sappy little thing that I came up with out of nowhere and decided to expose the world to. I have this weird non-despair head AU where IshiMondo is a thing and SakurAoi is a thing and they're, like, friends. That's why they're passively mentioned. I may write more in this little head AU, who knows?  
> The very end bit is a recountment of something that actually happened to me after a fight. /true story

Ishimaru sat in darkness, and silence. They encased him, surrounded him, and he didn't really mind it. He didn't even have the drive to lift his head up instead of resting it on his crossed arms, his back to the doorway and his eyes towards nothing but a blank wall. He hadn't even turned himself to look out the windows; he didn't even want as much light as the stars provided in his eyes.

The silence was broken by a hesitant sound, coming from somewhere beyond the boundaries of Ishimaru's darkness. There was someone at the door, but he didn't bother getting up to answer it. It wasn't locked; the only person who would need to get in could get in if he wanted to.

The door creaked open, and Ishimaru breathed the kind of ragged-edged sigh that one breathes before bursting into tears. A familiar voice called for him, as formally and as gently as possible. Ishimaru didn't respond. “Are you here?” The voice continued, now accompanied by slow footsteps.

The footsteps changed in pitch, indicating that they had entered a different room. They moved closer and closer, and finally a light came on behind where Ishimaru sat slumped over his desk. They stopped at the doorway, their owner leaning against the door frame.

“Hey.” Mondo beckoned, with a kind of quiet patience that would have been better hours ago. When Ishimaru did not respond, he took a deep breath and said the dreaded words.

“I'm sorry.”

Ishimaru stayed silent.

“I understand if you don't wanna talk to me. I wouldn't wanna talk to me either.” Mondo continued, taking a few cautious steps towards Ishimaru. He walked like a cat walking on snow for the first time, almost as if he feared that his very footsteps would hurt Ishimaru. Eventually he kneeled down beside the chair that Ishimaru had positioned himself in, but did not touch him at all. “I'm sorry I'm such a stupid asshole.” He breathed, leaning his head against the side of the chair. Ishimaru didn't even turn to face him. “You have every right to be mad at me. I was wrong. Really wrong.” Mondo pulled at the edge of his coat.

“And you were right.” He continued. “I was being very selfish, and childish. I have been this whole time.” Mondo turned his eyes towards the floor, which was suddenly very fascinating. “I never should've started that whole thing, but I wasn't thinking about you. It was a stupid idea.”

 _Yes it was._ Ishimaru thought.

“I understand why you got mad, and I understand that it's been hurting you.” Mondo proceeded. “If it's any consolation, the girls agree with you.” What almost appeared to be a smile appeared on Mondo's face. “They managed to knock some sense into me.” After a moment, his face fell, and he turned his head away awkwardly. “Shouldn't've said that.” He muttered.

Ishimaru managed to hold back a pained sob. He'd been made fun of for crying a lot since he was a kid, but most of the time he couldn't control it.

“I'm sorry I hit you.” Mondo declared, his voice taught with sadness and regret. “I know it won't change anything, but...” Mondo sighed deeply, his breaths growing faster and more erratic. “I shouldn't have done that.” He wiped the corners of his eyes with his sleeve. “And it's stupid, 'cause I told myself... I told myself I'd never do that. I don't wanna be that guy.” Mondo's voice cracked upwards; he was now breathing tightly and raggedly. “'Cause you're a good kid, y'know? You don't deserve it.” Mondo bit his lip, his eyes glittering like stars.

Ishimaru buried his head in his arms and sobbed loudly, hiding his tears. “Don't you start crying.” Mondo choked. “Because then I'll cry too.” Despite his pleas, he was obviously already crying. He finally wrapped his arms around Ishimaru's shoulders and drew himself close.

“I'm so sorry.” Mondo whispered, pressing his head against Ishimaru's shoulders. “I'm so sorry.” He repeated, louder and stronger this time. “And I'm gonna do all I can, okay? I'm gonna get rid of her. You won't have to worry. And I'm gonna do better.”

Mondo was different from Ishimaru. He had an image to keep up: A distinct, unforgiving image. He had a motorcycle gang to lead, and for that he had to look tough and confident, or else he would lose his power immediately. Maybe that was why he was so insecure, and why very few people had been allowed to know about their relationship. His gang couldn't find out that he was gay; that would be the end of the world.

So he'd found himself a fake girlfriend. He always said the same thing: that she was just for show, and she knew that, and she didn't mean anything to him. Ishimaru had made it very clear that he didn't like this arrangement, but Mondo never really listened to him. After all, Mondo was gone a lot, so how was Ishimaru supposed to be sure that she really meant nothing?

Upon confronting him about this, Ishimaru had been met with the expected _“You don't trust me?”_ That wasn't all that it was about. Ishimaru felt like an object of shame, something Mondo hated himself for. A dirty little secret. If anything, Ishimaru was the one who felt like a backup plan. With Mondo gone so much, it was like Ishimaru was just something to come home to, a vending machine that dispensed affection.

He felt like he wasn't enough. He understood why Mondo wanted to hide their relationship from his tougher friends; that made sense. He just didn't think that the smokescreen was necessary, especially when Mondo was already in a real relationship.

But Mondo hadn't agreed. He'd gotten defensive, trying to insist that his actions were justified, that it would be okay if Ishimaru could _'just fuckin' relax'_. Ishimaru had gotten louder, angrier. Mondo wouldn't listen to him unless Ishimaru got in his face about it. But Mondo didn't want to listen; he wanted to fight.

Ishimaru kept his head buried in his arms as he mentally ran back through the events leading up to where they were now. Clear up to that moment where he was suddenly on the floor and a whole half of his face hurt like hell, and Mondo was standing over him. Then there was that look in Mondo's eyes, just for a moment, before he turned around and stomped out the door. That was the moment when Mondo knew he'd done something wrong.

Ishimaru was still crying, but some of his tears were tears of joy. Mondo had done something responsible for once. Instead of storming off to a bar, or to his fake girlfriend's house, he'd gone over to talk to Sakura and Asahina. That meant that he'd known he was at fault, and he'd wanted to apologize. He just needed someone to tell him to.

Ishimaru honestly hadn't known whether or not to expect Mondo to be back before tomorrow or not. He was unbelievably happy that Mondo had come back, and that he didn't reek of alcohol and perfume. He wrapped his arms around Mondo, embracing him as tightly as he could.

“I love you.” Mondo mumbled. This was the first time Ishimaru had ever seen him break down and cry.

“I love you too.” Ishimaru finally responded.

“Your hair smells nice.”

 


End file.
